He growls. “You don’t fucking stop it. Youneverfucking stop it.”
“Is it bad? Are you disappointed?”
“No, baby. It’s not bad. Daddy isn’t disappointed.” He steps closer, sending my heart speeding as he braces one arm on the wall above me. Nowhere to run, no way to hide. “Is that all? You get wet?”
“Well… No… I…” How do I tell him? I look up and see pain cross his features. “Sometimes I touch myself when I’m in bed. I put my fingers between my legs and hug my frog really tight to keep from making too much noise, and then I rub and rub like I’m trying to get somewhere, but I don’t know where, and it never feels better.”
Shameful wetness streams out of me between my legs and threatens to squeeze from the corners of my eyes as I the microphone dangles forgotten at my side.
This is so embarrassing.
“And when you do all that, what do you think about? Orwhodo you think about?”
I suck in a shaking breath, gnawing on the inside of my lip before he cocks an eyebrow, and I know I have to tell the truth.
“You…” The answer is barely above a whisper, and I immediately want to take it back.
Except the look on his face isn’t anger. It isn’t disappointment. It isn’t even mockery.
It’s something I haven’t seen before. Like he’s holding something back, and it’s powerful. I glance down and… Oh, my God. I’ve never seen the front of his jeans bulging like that before.
Like he’s growing a dang baseball bat down there.
Now, that looks painful.
“Baby,” he growls. “Eyes back on mine. You think about me?”
I turn my face back up and nod. “Uh-huh. But that’s not the worst part.”
“What’s the worst part, baby? Be honest.” His hand moves to my hair, stroking, making me feel special and safe. Safe enough to tell the truth.
“It’s just… You know the parts down there? The ones I touch?”
“Your pussy. Your little clit. Your lips.”
I nod. “Yes, those… They… I don’t think they’re like other girls.”
I draw a deep breath as he pushes forward further, his body pressing into me, and his cock grinds into my stomach. It’s harder than I imagined, like that baseball bat I thought he might be growing, and I raise my hand, the forgotten microphone coming up with it.
I’ve noticed his cock before, but never like this, and usually he turns away, or when we’re at the dining room table, he’ll cover his lap with a napkin.
I don’t want him to do that. I want him to show me, and let me touch it, let me lick it, let me feel it everywhere.
“Not like other girls, huh?” he asks, the words echoing loud through the speakers, and I push my fingers against my lips to muffle the little whine that seeps from my throat. “Well, I think you need to let Daddy see, then he can tell you if there’s anything to worry about.”
“But… Mom would be angry,” I say, remembering how she told him to stop calling mebaby, and how mad she gets when I get his drink or run to hug him when he gets home from work. “She’ll say I shouldn’t be bothering you with my problems. Especially, you know...” I shrug a shoulder to my ear, lowering my voice, “Girl stuff.”
“Your mother doesn’t need to know,” he says, that free hand still braced against the wall above me while his other hand hangs at his hip, fingers still curled with that coconut oil in there. “It will be our secret, baby girl.”
I nod, choking on the dryness in my throat. I’ve never shared this particular intimate insecurity with anyone. But this man has been my safe place since I was a little girl, and basically my father for the last six years. I have so many memories of him and my dad laughing and talking about work, and swearing and coming home serious and grouchy.
Until they both saw me.
Then they became my two huge, protective teddy bears. Always.
But this? My little… I mean,bigsort of problem down there… How is this six-foot-seven wall of masculinity the one I’m about to show my oversized clit to for the first time?
“Show me. Now.” That stern hardness sharpens his words, and the look in his eyes, and I’m already beyond the point of no return. So I tug and pull at the elastic waistband of my yoga shorts until they are half down over my poochy belly, then wriggle my hips until they are down at my knees. Daddy steps back, not far, but enough to watch as I have to lean down to push the shorts the rest of the way, so that they’re around my ankles and I can step out of them.
